


Trust

by faequeentitania



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ficlet, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Mark of Cain, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faequeentitania/pseuds/faequeentitania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I just wish you trusted me."</p><p>Sam closed his eyes as he murmured the words into the back of Dean’s neck, his brother’s skin warm and slightly damp with sleep-sweat and Sam’s breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

"I just wish you trusted me."

Sam closed his eyes as he murmured the words into the back of Dean’s neck, his brother’s skin warm and slightly damp with sleep-sweat and Sam’s breath.

He had no clue what time it was. Early morning, he guessed. It was hard to tell down here in the bunker, with no windows and no outside sounds to judge by.

Dean shifted, leaning back against Sam’s chest a little firmer and tilting his head minutely.

"What’re you talkin’ about, Sam?" he asked just as quietly, drowsiness slurring his voice and making Sam’s heart pang.

Sam scrunched his eyes shut tighter, tilting his head down, the soft slither of his hair against the pillow overly loud in the crypt-like silence of the room. His forehead pressed against the back of Dean’s neck, and blindly in the dark he moved his hand from around his brother’s waist to his arm, trailing his palm down Dean’s bicep and curving around the crook of his elbow.

Revulsion coiled in the pit of his stomach as his fingertips found the raised, hot flesh of the Mark; could almost feel the answering call in his own blood, from the taint he was convinced would never truly be gone.

"I wish you trusted me with this."

Silence, and the uneasy tension blooming across Dean’s shoulders and down his back.

"I know what it’s like," Sam continued softly, "To have something inside you. Something dark. Something that feels like it’s consuming you and you don’t know how to fight it. I just want you to talk to me, to trust me with that fight."

More silence; Dean’s usually deep, even breathing changed to barely a sound. A frozen moment of aching stretching on forever until the feel of Dean pulling his arm from under Sam’s hand shattered it.

Sam’s heart twisted, and stupid, frustrated tears of heartbreak welled in his eyes.

"I trust you, Sammy," Dean finally lied, "There’s nothing to talk about, alright? I’ve got it under control. You don’t have to worry about me."

Mutely, Sam nodded, small and shallow against Dean’s neck. Even here, in their bed, in the middle of the night with darkness like a blanket around them, Dean couldn’t place his trust in him.

"Okay," Sam whispered, tucking his arm back around Dean’s waist and holding tight, despite himself, "Okay."


End file.
